


Prom Night

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 22:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble about a High School AU.  It's prom night, and our favorite assassins-to-be couldn't think it's any more stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prom Night

“Hey, fancy seeing you out here.”  
Clint found Natasha sitting outside of the gym at prom, perched on the brick wall and swinging her feet listlessly. Her black heels were discarded on the ground, flung across the pavement as if she couldn’t have taken them off any faster. Pink and blue lights from inside danced along the ground as Barton hoisted himself up alongside her.  
“Oh yeah?” he huffed as he pulled himself into a seated position. “I could say the same about you. Why aren’t you inside?”  
Natasha pursed her lips and loosened her curls from the dozens of bobby pins keeping them tucked away from her face. She flicked the little metal hairpins onto the cement below one at a time, the pulsating base from the music inside masking the gentle sound of the pins connecting with the pavement. “Dances aren’t really my scene,” she sighed. “You know that.” She gave her head one swift shake and her hair settled gently around her face again. One of her ruby red curls clung to the corner of her lips.  
Clint laughed and made a slight move to pull her hair from her mouth, until she began to explain, “Besides, one of the juniors tried to get fresh with me, hoping he’d get lucky. I… let’s say I forcefully persuaded him to reconsider.”  
Dropping his hand, Clint laughed. “Hope you didn’t destroy the poor kid.”  
“Oh no,” she shook her head, “I went easy on him. I don’t even think I managed to break his nose. Thankfully he’d already gotten his prom photos taken, so it was no big loss.”  
“That’s going easy on him?” Clint snorted.  
“Hey, considering I could’ve introduced my 3-inch heels to his balls, I’d say I was generous. Poor kid looked like he still needed them anyways,” Natasha offered with a shrug. She tucked the curl that hung from the corner of her mouth back behind her ear and rubbed her shoulders for warmth.  
The young man loosened his necktie and began to unbutton the top of his shirt a little. He rolled his shoulders back, tired from pretending to enjoy himself at this stupid dance. Opening one flap of his suit jacket, he plucked a small silver container from one of the inner pockets. His fingers lovingly stroked the top, unscrewing the plug. Natasha’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  
“Did you spike the punch, Barton? Isn’t that a little sophomoric?” She clucked her tongue playfully.  
“I was planning on it, but then I realized I don’t want to share this with any of those bastards in there,” he smirked, swirling the open flask beneath his nose before he took a quick swig. Clint crinkled his nose and held the drink out to Natasha. “Can I interest you in some?”  
Natasha rolled her eyes, but took the flask from her friend and tipped it to her lips, thoughtfully sipping. “You know, all night I’ve been asking myself why I even bothered to show.”  
“You sure it’s not because you wanted to see me dressed in a suit?”  
“Yeah,” she scoffed, “and you came just to see me in a dress. Don’t flatter yourself, Barton.”  
Clint shrugged it off, taking another pull from his small flask, almost emptying it. He wouldn’t admit it, but seeing her in a dress was a rare privilege. Still, he didn’t want to end up like that poor boy she’d sucker punched for hitting on her.  
There was something Clint enjoyed about complaining about things with Natasha. Maybe that was why they’d both come; to bitch and moan about how miserable they were though they were secretly thankful for each other’s company. Whatever the reason was, neither of them was bold enough to say exactly. They passed the silver bottle in silence until it was empty and their fingertips felt warm despite the cold night breeze picking up outside.  
Without the exchange of words, Natasha suddenly leaned on Clint’s shoulder. He slipped his arm from his suit sleeve and draped that side of the jacket around his friend, his free hand winding around her waist. In all honesty, he’d expected her to punch him or at least elbow him in the ribs, so it was a pleasant surprise when she just accepted his embrace.  
She didn’t look up, but Natasha murmured, “For the record, you do look handsome in that suit. But don’t think that you’re the only reason I came tonight.”  
He chuckled, “Fair enough. So, Tasha, what was the other reason you came to the dance, if the dashing Clint Barton wasn’t the main motivator?”  
That was when he felt the swift jab to the stomach he’d been expecting.


End file.
